


My Crona Romance

by Kragle (Lizardon)



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Multi, Other, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2731760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardon/pseuds/Kragle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic oneshot collection based on my current addiction to My Chemical Romance. Primarily CroMa, some more general Crona-centric fic. Some manga-verse, some anime-verse, some AU. Every chapter will be based on a different song, either taking directly from it or borrowing themes from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Demolition Lovers

Lying in a puddle of their own black blood, Crona wondered if maybe there isn't a meaning to life. Laying next to them was Maka, the meaning. But she was bleeding even worse than Crona. Everything had been in vain. The plan, a heroic sacrifice to make up for their whole life of being worthless, had failed.

"Thank you." 

Maka was smiling, that cute smile that made the voices in Crona's head quiet down for a bit. "We beat her, thanks to you."  
Medusa's soul bubbled not far away, stripped of a body and ready to be eaten. Crona swallowed hard. The inside of their mouth tasted like rust and disease. Ragnarok tried to take corporeal form multiple times, flailing up and sinking back down into the inky mass. "Fuck you," he growled weakly "So close to ultimate power...." Crona thought for a moment on how he should probably be happy to be free from their body. He rose and sunk for one last time, and that was the last he moved. Maka laughed as if anything about this inconceivable situation was funny in any way. She found her way to her feet with much effort. Crona looked to her. Her face read deep pain and crimson ran down the spaces where her left arm had once been. She was barely able to stand at all. 

"It doesn't matter," Crona growled.

"It makes all the difference in the world, Crona. You stood up to her." She reached an arm down and Crona grabbed for it, only for Crona's weight to bring her down on top of them. There was a sound of crunching bones, probably the noise of broken ribs finding their way into internal organs. She buried her face in Crona's heaving chest. Crona cocked their head to the side. Their blood was mixing with hers on the ground into an ugly brown soup. 

_I'm trying, I'm trying_  
 _To let you know how much you mean_  
 _As days fade, and nights grow_  
 _And we go cold,_

"I couldn't stand up to her, though." They could feel Maka's chest heaving so impossibly hard, a tiny sarcastic prayer for life. We're gonna die here, Crona thought, not for the first time. Maka's going to die here. "It wasn't standing up to her that made me want to stop her." Maka sighed and it didn't sound like a sigh of disappointment.

_But this time, we'll show them_  
 _We'll show them all how much we mean_  
 _As snow falls on desert sky_  
 _Until the end of every..._

"You found something to fight for?" She knew. "Something you chose all by yourself."

"I don't want you to die. I wouldn't know how to deal with it." Blood loss was getting to Crona, a serene clarity blanketed their mind for the first time in many, many years. There was no black blood left to manifest into madness. Maka peeked her head up. Her eyes were shimmering green, as if they hadn't yet received the news she was dying.

"Isn't this the way you'd like to go?"

No. You were supposed to live, you were supposed to live a long happy life with Soul and Kid and all your friends at Shibusen, and I was supposed to serve my last and only purpose. I am a weapon, a spent shell. Crona thought all these words, but all that came out was "Don't die, please." Even the glimmer in her eyes was fading. She didn't have much longer.

_Forever, forever_  
 _Like scarecrows that fuel this flame we're burning_  
 _Forever, and ever_

"Crona, I would die for you." 

"I love you." Maka didn't reply. Her tiny flame had flickered out. Crona was suddenly very aware of their own fleeting consciousness. The warm embrace of their spilled blood was like a blanket.

All we are is bullets, Crona thought. Maka too, even. At least she spent herself for me.


	2. Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this ends up updating pretty sporadically, I try to only write one out when I'm inspired to. These are pretty much all going to be as dark and gloomy as the first chapter was, so warning.

_The hardest part_  
 _Is letting go of_  
 _Your dreams._

The first warning sign of very very bad trouble was when Crona began to hear thoughts that weren't theirs. Or at least they assumed as much, it was very hard to tell. It was a small thought, but very much not the kind of thought that Crona would've had of their own volition. It was a curse word, one Crona had never seen used before, nor heard used by anyone, yet Crona knew it was an especially foul curse and something that should never be thought. They were unsure of where it came from but ultimately dismissed it as a strange brain fluke. It was the first of many, and soon it was very clear from where these thoughts came from: Ragnarok. Ragnarok was crass and sarcastic and cruel. His thoughts, however, were a thousand times worse than the things that came out of his horrible mouth. 

Thoughts gave way to compulsions. Often, Crona would find themselves compulsed to just eat everything. Laying alone in their room except for Ragnarok and the thoughts that ran through their shared conscious: eat, kill, consume. The compulsions were a buzzing that couldn't be turned off. Eat. Kill. Consume.

Worse was the hatred. Crona was consumed by it, feeling the centuries of hate that Ragnarok hid behind lewd quips and half-hearted rudeness. Ragnarok hated everyone and everything, for every soul he hadn't yet got a chance to eat, for being duped by that snake of a witch, and for being cursed to live in the pathetic shell he was forced to a host body. When hatred of that kind came up Crona would be surprised to find themselves tensed up, with a spike jetting from their skin and aimed at their own throat. It took a lot of coaching and starving off Ragnarok's feelings to keep themselves alive. At long last the hatred became too much for Crona to bear, and they did the unthinkable: let Ragnarok have full control of consciousness. This proved to be worse than the thoughts, or even the compulsions. The nightmares began.

Crona dreamed of the feeling of bobbing down like a puppet on a string, while a great black dragon carried them around in the sky. Even from as high in the air as they were, they could see people with weapons aimed at the dragon. They threw ballistas and fired flaming arrows that bounced off the dragon as if they were made of paper. One sunk fast into the tumor that was Crona. Black needle blood dripped from the wound the arrow left. The dragon's wingbeat suddenly became erratic and it started to tumble down out of the sky. Crona woke up before they hit the ground. Just a dream. They sighed with relief. Until they saw the arrow running through their stomach, that is.

The lines between dream, reality, their thoughts, and Ragnarok's only became increasingly blurred. They would dream of dying or killing themself, only to wake up and be alive and well and the cycle would repeat. Sometimes the dreams were far too real. Ragnarok was not afraid to consume any soul he came across while in control of their body. Crona once dreamed of preying on a school of small children and their cheery ginger teacher, finding themself hoping that it had been a dream even as it was playing out, only to find clumps of bloody red hair clutched in their shaking hands upon awaking. Lucid shreds of conscious were often spent wishing that of all the dreams to be real, the ones were Ragnarok simply bit their head off like a grape had been the true ones. Lucidity came less and less as time went on. Ragnarok seemed to focus less energy on hating Crona, and more on becoming powerful. With every soul he ate it became clear that Crona was just a parasite and would shrink away to nothingness soon enough, like a blood-starved tick. When Crona realized that they no longer wanted to be free of Ragnarok's influence, nor even die anymore, it marked the final uniquely 'Crona' thought they would ever have. It was comforting, and if there was a Crona left in the body they once called their own, they would be happy. The sounds of people screaming, of Ragnarok taking form as the massive black dragon or the shrieking sword, then the bloodbath and eating. There was no more struggling or fear. 

There was only the dream.


	3. I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and formatting are arch rivals if you haven't noticed. Also, CroMa in this chapter! Great!

_Down_   
_And down we go_   
_And down we go_   
_And down we go_   
_And we all fall down_

She stood before the monster that had once been her friend, scythe in hand.

"Crona, it's me." The creature didn't respond. It was hunched over low, sobbing and covered in blood in a small crater.

"Crona, did you kill them? All those people?"

Maka stepped closer but gripped her weapon tighter. She noticed that the creature wasn't sobbing at all. It was actually giggling a weak but constant chortle. "Who made you do this? Was it Medusa?" It stopped laughing at that name.

"First her." it said. The voice that came out wasn't the one Maka had recognized from any time before. It was not weak and quiet like it had been, but cold and sure. "I became stronger than her. Who are you?"

Maka stepped down into the crater and leaned closer.

"Crona, you are stronger than the madness. We can come home to Shibusen together and you can get help." Soul was nagging at her through resonance to not ease up, that the Crona she knew was gone and this was a dangerous serial killer. She ignored him. "They'll be happy you stopped Medusa, you'll be forgiven. Just come home with us."

"Oh. I know who you are now. You are the bunny. First to stop her voice, then to stop the voice of the bunny. The clown said to do that."

Maka tried to connect to their soul, but it almost seemed like there wasn't one. Its prescence was muddled like static on a tv. The harder she tried to reach for it, the more lost its flicker became.

"Crona, you don't have to let anyone control you anymore. You're free."

Crona stood up, and Maka could see they now sprouted dripping black blood wings and a pair of extra arms coming from where no arms belonged. Their face was pained, but drawn up into the surefire smile of madness. They contorted their back so they faced upward and their wings and both pairs of arms dangled down lifelessly. Maka heard a whooshing sound and a sharp neeedle of black blood found its way to inches before her face. Would Crona really be willing to kill her? Soul growled a 'yes' at her.

"If I don't come with you, you'll have me killed." Crona responded. "So still a slave, then. The bunny is foolish."

"I don't want to hurt you, Crona."

It was true enough, and she was partially scared that Crona would know that. She would fight if she had to, but if it came to killing blows, she couldn't. Not when...

Crona withdrew the needle.

"Why are you here? No one here is alive anymore."

Maka was straining to find Crona's soul. If she could just reach it, to get inside and set free the innocent and scaared child, the one who hugged her and she could feel the love wash over her, the one who trusted her when she would trust no one herself. Crona wasted no more time. A giant set of swords materialized in their arms and they leaped bolt upright. Maka quickly parried four swings with Soul's handle. The force of the blows made Crona's stance dizzy. Maka jumped forward and knocked Crona down with the scythe's non-bladed end.

"I won't give up on you!" she yelled, pinning them down under Soul's curved blade. She was inches from Crona's pale, tired face.

  
_And we'll all dance alone to the tune of your death_   
_We'll love again, we'll laugh again_   
_And it's better off this way_

"No one here is alive anymore," Crona repeated. "Not even bunny soon."

They grabbed a hold of Maka with their freakish second arm set and flung her into the air, still pinned to the ground by Soul. Maka went crashing into the wall of the crater, and Soul was unceremoniously flung after her. Maka sprung to her feet to retrieve Soul, but Crona was faster and closed the gap between them before she could pick him up. They grabbed her by the throat.

"You loved me Crona," she choked. "How could you forget?"

Crona's grip on Maka suddenly loosened. Maka felt immediate joy, that Crona could finally remember, that they would come home and they could get better and Maka could love them back like she always had anyway.

The joy died on the second half of the instant it appeared in when she saw the black blood oozing from Crona's mouth. She fell out of their arms and onto the ground, where she could see Soul standing behind them with one of his blades going through their abdomen. He retracted the blade and they fell to their knees pitifully.

_Well I tried_   
_One more night, one more night_   
_Well I'm laughing out,_   
_Crying out,_   
_Laughing out loud_   
_I tried, well I tried, well I tried,_   
_'Cause I tried, but I lied_   
_I lied_

First, she felt relieved. Then, angry at Soul. Then, nothing. She knew what had to be done.

"There's no one here now, right? Everyone is dead." Crona nodded. "Just me and Soul, who found this empty crater, looking for someone who is not here."

She motioned for Soul to transform and he did. She took the scythe in both her hands and raised it above her head. Not wanting to bear the sight, she closed her eyes and swung down.


End file.
